6 months in the South - Brighton!

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Hello and welcome to possibly the most-infrequently updated blog... in the world.

As you may be aware, we are living in the white-person's paradise that is Brighton (well, Hove, but close enough). Brightonians are all, without exception, convinced that they live in the coolest, most cosmopolitan town in the UK (London's not a town, man, it's a crazy place). This is always uttered by someone white and middle-class - no-one remotely dissimilar is ever in sight when you hear this. So, what then? Well, for one, there are marginally less chain-stores than you might find in other towns. Don't panic - you can still get your insanely cheap clothes at Primark, and the literary heaven that is WH Smith is there; but there isn't a Starbucks on every corner, and you can walk for a good 7 minutes without hitting a Pret-a-Manger.

Well, I hear you cry, where do people eat? And get coffee? And more importantly, be seen? Fear not, weary traveller, all your nourishment and caffeine needs will be met, in the profusion of overpriced organic fair trade free-range stores, all of which are patronised by the kinds of Guardian-reading sandal-wearers who will be more than willing to regale you with tales of how they saw whatsisface, you know that comedian who's big now, at Komedia only a few months ago, when no-one had heard of him.

I could go on - but I won't, because we do really enjoy this place a lot. Reasons abound - as per the public transport affliction that has occasionally permeated earlier blogs, I will start with the buses: they're almost as frequent as the Tube, and they run all night. All night! If I want to go out and get mashed on a Tuesday night, I can be safe in the knowledge that a warm night-bus will safely ferry me back home (the bus-stop is right outside our house) at 2, 4 or 6 am.

And why would you want to drive? The centre of town is planned in a way that is designed to drive (get it?) motorists to distraction, including motorcyclists, as I found out. One-way this, and dead-end that - you only really drive into town if you're feeling too relaxed and want a bit of frustration in your life. Furthermore Brighton's pedestrians treat the road as their own personal strolling area, which leads to them giving drivers the sorts of condescending looks that leave grown men weeping.

This all means that my favourite mode of transport is the only way to go: cycling! Yaay! It's just so great to save the earth while keeping fit and healthy, it's all I can do to suppress a little squeal of joy every time I ride past a queue of traffic with my canvas bag slung over my shoulder. The distances are fine, and if you want a bit of exercise you can ride up to Devil's Dyke, a cliff-top that affords the tired rider (or lazy driver) superb views across the South Downs - that's the National Park that's pretty much right on our doorstep, yeah.

What else? We've found our food haunts: Mange-Tout, a French bistro-style place that we frequent almost weekly, because it serves up proper nosh. Brighton can suffer from the English affliction of Having Awful Food, but along with the aforementioned we also like a Thai place in Seven Dials, a curry house in Hove and coffee place (set up by Aussies, would you believe it) in Hove too. Predictably, it's small, independent, and roasts its own beans. There are a few of these sorts of outfits, all battling to tell you just how happy Pedro in Peru was when they sent him that Western Union transfer for the shade-grown beans they bought off him. Marwoods on Ship st is good, as is Graham's in Kemptown.

So yeah - we like it. We like it a lot. I will do another blog telling you about us, because quite frankly this paean to Brighton doesn't tell you jack about how I am. Does it.

love
us

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Comments

[godwyns.com]

blaaaaast!
We shall have no praise-less blog about our dear lovely gay-capital of Great Britain... What! Chris. But Brighton is cool; I love it though I rarely go near. Seeing that seefront daily with no proper sandy beach can make me sick. You have to do the walk towards Margate, whatever the path is called. I am planning a cycling trip on it some time soon. Now tell us something better